


I'm not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you

by threadgoodethebard (elevenagain)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-10
Updated: 2016-06-10
Packaged: 2018-07-14 04:28:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7153529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elevenagain/pseuds/threadgoodethebard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by Black Kids' "I'm not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you".</p>
<p>AU. When her crush Sansa Stark is stood up by her boyfriend on the first King's Landing School dance lesson, Margaery Tyrell sees it as her task not to leave such a lovely girl without a waltz partner.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you

**Author's Note:**

> Title and chapter names from Black Kids' "I'm not gonna teach your boyfriend how to dance with you".
> 
> King's Landing is a boarding school. I think that's all you need to know..?
> 
> I hope you enjoy it (=

****_You are the girl that I’ve been dreaming of ever since I was a little girl_

“You were not listening to a word I said,” the young man with long brown hair sighed by her side.

 

“I am expected at three p.m. sharp to help Mr. Forel conduct the first King’s Landing School dance lesson of the term, and you very much wish you were the one waltzing with Renly Baratheon in my place,” she replied without missing a beat, but still not directing her gaze at her brother’s face.

 

“What!? I said nothing about dancing with Renly!” The boy protested, and even though she was not looking at him, Margaery could still imagine the light blush spreading on his cheeks. Holding her smirk in, she just shrugged.

 

“You didn’t have to, dearest brother. Point is I was listening to the entirety of your jealous, bitter rambling. And you really thought grandmother would not have given me a three-hour-lecture on how I must make Mr. Forel say I am the best dance tutor he’s ever met, so she can tell Cersei Lannister she’s no longer the dancing queen? You so underestimate my commitment to grandmother’s vanity, Loras… besides, you do not need to worry about Renly and I. He is a very cute, very gentle lad, but not really my type.”

 

“Of course not. And you can’t blame me for thinking you’re not listening when you just can’t take your eyes off of _your type_ for a second,” Loras replied in an annoyed tone. And he was right—Margaery could not stop looking at the other end of the hallway, where Sansa Stark stood next to her locker.

Her older brother was also very correct in referring to the Stark girl as her type. In fact, the freshman had been Margaery’s crush since the beginning of the school year. However, they had never really talked, which was incredibly out of character for the brown-haired woman.

 

She was, after all, Margaery Tyrell: the most popular girl in school. Okay, maybe that title was shared with Daenerys Targaryen, but it was still quite impressive for a sophomore. Margaery was perfectly capable of charming both students and faculty members alike, and pretty much everyone fawned over her. She made sure to treat every single soul in school gently, so she was adored by all—ranging from freshmen to seniors. Boys could not help staring with heart eyes at her, and girls wished they could be Margaery, become her new best friend, or be her next date for Friday night, depending on their preferences. Sometimes, they tried to be all three things at once, which flattered the Tyrell’s ego immensely. What could she say? She really liked girls.

 

So, all in all, Margaery knew she could have easily befriended Sansa Stark. The redheaded young woman looked at her with admiration in her marvelous blue eyes—of course Margaery had not missed that. It would have been easy to put her arm through Sansa’s, lead her down the hallway, give her tips about King’s Landing and say she wanted them to be like sisters.

 

Except she did not want to lie to Sansa Stark. She really, _really_ did not think of her in a sisterly way _at all_.

 

Still, it seemed like it would have been easy to be just like Jeyne Poole and chat excitedly to Sansa in between classes. And maybe it would have, except for… _him_.

 

Upon seeing Joffrey Baratheon approach Jeyne and Sansa, Margaery’s eyes narrowed. Why was the sweetest girl dating the biggest jerk in school since the expelling of Ramsay Snow?

 

And that was _why_ she had never made an effort to approach the oldest Stark daughter. Margaery no longer thought, in that instant, that it would have been easy to be just like Jeyne Poole. In fact, standing next to a Sansa who was smiling brightly at a Joffrey who was staring dirtly at every girl who passed them in the hallway would have killed the Tyrell inside.

 

Not that it didn’t from afar—it was just safer because she could not reach them to punch the Baratheon in the face and ruin her school princess reputation, or suggest to Sansa that she was probably a much better kisser than the blond guy. From afar, it was easier to just bite her tongue.

 

“You should do something about it.” Her brother’s voice startled Margaery from her reverie.

 

“About what?” She asked in the light, neutral tone she had become so used to adopting when engaging in conversation with people.

 

“Your poker face does not work on me, Margaery. I was there before grandmother taught you how to use it—I know your tricks. Which is precisely why I know Sansa Stark is different.”

 

Finally, Margaery tore her gaze away from the redhead (a task made easier by the way Joffrey Baratheon had draped his arm possessively around the girl’s shoulder) and stared at her brother.

 

“What do you mean, Loras?”

 

“You came to King’s Landing last year and I thought your personal mission was seeing if you could make Oberyn Martell sound prudish and shy. You were the biggest flirt, Marg. Until Sansa Stark enrolled and suddenly our dorm phone was ringing a lot less and you were around on Friday nights a lot more.”

 

“You’re just annoyed I’m interrupting your and Renly’s playing doctor sessions.”

 

“By the gods, do not make that sound so dirty—he was just kind enough to offer to be my anatomy tutor and you know it,” Loras hushed, looking around to make sure Renly was not close by, since him overhearing their conversation would probably make for a very awkward situation. _Paranoid_ , Margaery thought, _and also completely adorably whipped_.

 

“Not my fault you two decided Grey’s Anatomy would be a good way to compliment your studying. You know I _cannot not_ be in front of the television if that show is on.” Margaey smiled and winked.

 

“Fine. Avoid the subject if that’s what you want. Grandmother really did teach you well, but I’m your brother and I want you to be happy, Marg. Stop being afraid of what you’re feeling—it does not make you weak. Do. Something. About. Sansa. Stark. Then I promise you won’t have to stand me bugging you anymore. It seems worth it to me: we both know how much of a pain I can be.”

 

Blinking in surprise, Margaery was not able to react while her brother side-hugged her lightly and gently kissed the top of her head. Sure, she and Loras were very close, but she was not used to him being that straightforward and calling her out on her evasive manners. Before she could answer, Loras was gone, jogging in the direction of Quentyn Martell so they could go to class together.

 

He probably did not expect an answer anyway. He probably just wanted her to muse over his words, which she was obviously doing as her gaze went back to Sansa Stark. _Would you look at that? People think grandmother and I are the scheming ones, but it seems that this cunning thing runs in the family,_ she thought fondly with a smirk on her face, deciding it was time she left for class too. And maybe, just _maybe_ , time she did something about Sansa Stark as well.

 

 

 

By 2:30, Maragery was standing inside the big gymnasium where the dancing lesson would take place. She had wanted to arrive a little bit before the class started, so she could discuss any plans with Mr. Forel and Renly if so needed. Neither of them had showed up yet, though.

 

The Tyrell was absently stretching her arms when she heard footsteps approaching the outside of the building. Looking through a window, she saw Sansa Stark and Jeyne Pool talking to Tyrion Lannister, responsible for registering people for the lessons.

 

Margaery was not naïve; she had known the chances of Sansa and Joffrey being one of the pairs in the dancing practice was high. Still, there was a sting to her chest when she contemplated with certainty that she would have to see the both of them enlaced together for the next weeks. Trying to ignore the bitterness she was feeling, Margaery went on to welcome some other students who were also starting to arrive and enter the gym.

 

At 2:48, Sansa and Jeyne were still standing outside. Acting on a whim, Margaery decided she wanted to know what they were talking about. She waved to the girls and stood a few feet to their side, pretending to be deeply focused on her phone.

 

“Where are those fools?” Jeyne asked, looking around nervously.

 

“You know how the boys are. They were probably running around in the fields for a half an hour too long and had to rush to the showers. They will be here, though. Jon would have Ghost chase Theon all the way back to the Iron Islands before he let him stood you up, Jeyne.”

 

“Jon would have Ghost chase Theon all the way back to the Iron Islands regardless, if it weren’t for the certainty of Robb throwing a fit.”

 

Sansa laughed briefly, and Margaery could not stop herself from smiling a little at how pretty the sound was.

 

“What about Joffrey?” Jeyne asked in a suddenly softer tone.

 

“He promised me he would come. And he will, Jeyne,” Sansa tried sounding confident, but Margaery could hear the hesitance in her voice. It made her sad. Granted, she disliked Joffrey and seeing him and Sansa together frustrated her, but she found herself wishing the boy were there. The dancing lessons were obviously important to Sansa and Jeyne: they had been the first to arrive, after all. To be there at 2:30, they had probably run straight after classes. If he did not show up, Sansa would not have a partner and feel devastated about it. That was something Margaery could not have.

 

“Sorry we are late—Jon is a bastard!” Robb announced loudly, a big smile on his face. He, Jon, Theon and Arya came up to where the girls were.

 

“And by that he means he is a sore loser who kept challenging me and, well, _losing_. He is the one to blame,” Jon offered with a chuckle.

 

“Don’t brag, Jon Snow. You only won because I was not there,” a teasing voice replied. Ygritte and Jeyne Westerling showed up at the gymnasium door, having probably heard their partners’ voices.

 

“What he said about me losing time after time is not strictly how things went down,” Robb declared to Jeyne Westerling in a strained voice, his cheeks quickly turning a shade closer to his hair color. The girl who made him so embarrassed obviously did not care about him losing or winning, for she only chuckled and laced her slender arm through his muscular one.

 

_Boys are ridiculous_ , Margaery thought to herself, smirking lightly, _but the Starks are still adorable. I wonder how our families would get along…_

“And why is Arya here?” Sansa asked, frowning.

 

“Hello to you too, my beloved sister,” the younger girl replied with a roll of her eyes.

 

“I did not mean it like that. It’s just that you’re a middle schooler, so you are technically not allowed to be here. It is against the rules, and you know how mother…”

 

“And what is _she_ doing here?” Theon interrupted Sansa’s rambling, crudely pointing at Margaery.

 

“Greyjoy, that’s rude,” Robb chastised his friend. “Hello, Margaery. I’m sorry we’re being so loud.” He looked at her with kindness in his eyes and a sort of embarrassed smile.

 

“No, not at all. It makes me feel closer to Highgarden and the noise made by my own brothers, so I am actually enjoying it,” Margaery answered pleasantly. She chanced a glance at Sansa, who seemed a little mortified since she realized how boastful her family was being in front of the Tyrell. Margaery obviously found it very cute.

 

“And where is dipshit?” Once again, Theon interrupted the ongoing conversation, this time looking at Sansa. Her blue eyes seemed to water a little, and Margaery felt her chest constrict.

 

She was not the only one to sense Sansa’s mood shift. In fact, all of her family members made some kind of movement towards the girl’s direction—even the guys’ girlfriends. Margaery thought they seemed a little like a pack of wolves. She was surprised to catch herself, who had always taken pride in being a free spirit at that school, whishing she could belong.

 

Robb and Jeyne separated themselves from one another, and the boy draped his muscular arm over Sansa’s shoulder, while Jeyne side-hugged her at the waist.

 

“Let’s go inside, Sans. He might show up in a few minutes,” Robb offered, squeezing the redhead’s shoulder.

 

“It’s actually better for you if he doesn’t,” Theon added, and Jon glared at him.

 

“Would you shut it, Greyjoy?”

 

“What? I’m here to offer the truth, not sugarcoat it for you. Besides, Arya is here, she can be Sansa’s partner.”

 

“No fucking way!”

 

“Why not, Arya? Are you here for any other reason than crashing the guys’ P.E. class? Is freshman Gendry Waters coming for the dance lessons too, hm?” Ygritte teased, and Margaery thought she heard Jon’s neck snap with the speed he turned his face to gape at Arya.

 

“Who now?”

 

“I fucking hate you all,” the youngest Stark groaned.

 

“Language, Arya!” Sansa chastised, and Margaery was glad she was at least feeling better enough to remind her little sister of her manners. “Also, go back to your dorm, you will get a detention!”

 

“Only if they can catch her, which would be a first.” Mixed in Jon’s tone and smile were pride and concern, and Margaery thought it was sweet that he was caught between his duty of sending her home and his fondness of her rebel ways.

 

Once they were all back inside, Margaery glanced at the desk where Tyrion Lannister was preparing to close his registration book. Seeing her brother and Renly approaching, she made an impulsive decision— _Grandmother would be so disappointed._

“Hello, Mr. Lannister. I would like to register for the dance lessons,” she declared with a big smile plastered on her face.

 

“You, Ms. Tyrell? But I thought Mr. Forel had mentioned his tutor assistants would be Baratheon and Tyrell…”

 

“Oh, that is absolutely correct, Mr. Lannister,” she winked at him, and when Tyrion looked in the distance, recognition took over his expression.

 

“Oh. Okay, Ms. Tyrell. Your name is registered—you can go.”

 

She was about to thank him when Loras and Renly finally came into ear-range distance, and her brother graciously took her by the arm, a really fake smile gracing his beautiful face.

 

“Margaery. My dear sister Margaery. What exactly are you doing?” He asked between his teeth, trying to keep Renly and Tyrion from listening to their conversation.

 

“Signing up for dance lessons, of course,” the girl replied without missing a beat, still smiling sweetly.

 

“How nice! Except you’ve been able to waltz flawlessly since you were seven years-old, Margaery.”

 

Before she could respond, Syrio Forel showed up at the door, beaming excitedly at them.

 

“Ah, here are the pupils Olenna recommended to me—Baratheon and Tyrell! Welcome, welcome! Shall we start then? The kids inside are bursting with anticipation!”

 

“That sounds lovely, Mr. Forel! Just let me go inside so I can be with the other students when you guy start the lesson,” Margaery asked, doing a sort of courtesy.

 

“The other students..? Pardon me, Ms. Tyrell, but aren’t you one of my assistants?”

 

“I’m afraid not, Mr. Forel.”

 

“But I thought the last names I’d gotten from Olenna were Baratheon and Tyrell,” he replied with a small frown.

 

“Yes, sir. This is Renly Baratheon and this is my brother Loras Tyrell. I am absolutely sure they will be marvelous tutors!”

 

At that, Syrio’s smile was back in full force.

 

“This is excelent! So unconventional! A strong stance on the importance of diversity and defying heteronormativity—I love it!”

 

Loras, however, was not that enthusiastic. Blushing furiously while standing next to an equally red-faced Renly, he mouthed angrily at his sister.

 

“ _What the hell, Margaery!_?”

_“Sorry, big brother, but you did tell me to do something about Sansa Stark_. _I blame you, really,”_ she shrugged, discreetly moving closer to the entrance door.

 

_“Yeah, talk to her and tell her how you feel, not come up with one of your crazy schemes!”_

 

_“Sorry, Lor. It’s the Tyrell way: Growing Strong, you know?”_

 

Before he could tell her off for resurrecting that old family motto and make the other three men realize something was very much _not_ going according to plan, Margaery slipped inside.

 

It did not take her long to spot the mess of red and black hairs she was looking for. They were all standing in line with their respective partners, which left Sansa in a quite awkward position. Margaery could see they were all still trying to distract her, but it was obviously not going to work with the class’s beginning looming closer and closer. The poor girl just looked absolutely miserable.

 

“May I speak to Sansa?” Margaery asked once she was within earshot. Most of the Stark and co. kids looked at her with surprised expressions in their faces, but Robb smiled kindly once again.

 

“Of course.” He really was a sweet guy. It was probably a little concerning how readily he trusted people, but it also seemed comforting to know people like him actually existed. “That is, if you want to, Sansa dear?”

 

The girl nodded weakly and accompanied Margaery a few steps away from her family.

 

“Have we ever actually talked before, Sansa Stark?” The Tyrell inquired, looking gently at the girl next to her.

 

“Do ‘hi’s’ in the hallways count?” The readhead asked with a shy smile.

 

“Hm,” Margaery scrunched her nose and pretended to take a few seconds to muse over the question. “No, I don’t think they do. So, in that case, it is very nice to finally officially meet you, Sansa Stark. I am Margaery Tyrell,” the brunette declared with a big smile, holding out her hand.

 

Sansa took it, chuckling embarrassedly all the while.

 

“I obviously know who you are. And I feel silly shaking hands!”

 

When Margaery’s only response was smiling even bigger, Sansa sighed.

 

“Gods, okay—it’s very nice to meet you too, Margaery Tyrell. Are you happy now?” Sansa’s tone and smile let the brunette know she was not really annoyed, but actually enjoying the pleasantry show.

 

“Very. Say, Sansa Stark, I was wondering if you could help me. I really, really need it,” Margaery changed her expression to a much more solemn one.

 

“What is it?” The redhead asked, frowning a little. “I doubt that I can actually help, but I will definitely try.”

 

“I signed up for these dancing lessons, because it would please my grandmother that I am able to waltz when the Winter Ball comes. However, I do not have a dance partner.”

 

“How do _you_ not have a dance partner?” Sansa gaped at her like a fish, and Margaery was reminded of how her mother’s family had used the animal as a symbol a long, long time ago. She was not a stalker—information was just something _very_ useful.

 

“That is a detail for some other time. The important thing right now is I really need a partner. Would you be mine, Sansa? I’d forever be in your debt.” Margaery looked at her with expectant eyes, trying to will her heart to stop fluttering in her chest. Fortunately, she did not have to wait long.

 

“Yeah,” Sansa agreed with a shy smile, and Margaery was happy to see some joy shining in her blue eyes.

 

“Yeah?” She asked with a grin of her own.

 

“Yeah,” Sansa confirmed softly, this time laughing more openly.

 

When Syrio, Loras and Renly came back inside, the lesson finally started (her brother kept smiling pleasantly at everyone, but shooting daggers at her). When Margaery took Sansa’s right hand in hers and positioned her left at the taller girl’s waist, she had to fight a shiver. That’s when she knew she was doomed, and that she just had to show Sansa she could do much better than Joffrey. And maybe, hopefully, that much better could be Margaery Tyrell.

 

 

 

 

Later that night, Margaery dropped by Sansa’s dorm and left a note and a vase with a flower by her door. The note, written in her carefully trained and refined handwriting, read:

_Sansa Stark,_

_I am glad we have met you. Thank you for being my dance partner—you really did me a big favor and I owe you_!

_As a token of my gratitude, I offer you this daffodil. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but my family has sort of always been into botanic and gardening. We commonly express our feelings through flowers, so I could not think of any better way to show you how deeply greateful I am._

_Ahem. Coming back. The daffodil has some of its meanings associated to new beginnings. I do think—and I sure hope so—that we will become good friends, Sansa, you and I. This daffodil is then my faith deposited in the beautiful new beginnings this friendship is going to bring us._

_I hope you have a lovely night or day, for I do not know when you are going to read this._

_Yours,_

_Margaery Tyrell_

 

“You don’t play this game half-assedly, huh?” Loras, who had accompanied his sister, asked.

 

“Grandmother taught me better than that. Besides, I’ve heard Sansa loves chivalry, and I am more than glad to dote on her,” she winked at her brother. After a few minutes of walking in silence side by side, Margaery spoke up again.

 

“Loras?”

 

“Yes?”  


 

“It’s not a game. Not with her,” she confessed quietly, feeling suddenly very exposed and vulnerable.

 

“I know,” Loras replied in an equal tone, affectionately draping his arm over his sister’s shoulder. She rested her head on his and hoped that, at least, Sansa could be happier than she was right now with that shitty boyfriend of hers. And it was selfish, she knew it, but she also really hoped Sansa could be happier with _her._

 

**Author's Note:**

> if you have way too many Sansaery feels like I do, come scream at me at @threadgoodethebard


End file.
